Itch
by FaithinBones
Summary: For some reason Booth can't quite understand, the urge to gamble is stronger than normal and he needs help before he gives in. (Season 6)
1. Chapter 1

(After 'The Bullet in the Brain')

This story was requested by a Guest Reviewer. "Hannah Stories" is no longer being updated as it reached 182 chapters. I will continue to write Hannah stories as I think of them, but they will be stand alone stories.

I really don't own Bones.

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He awoke with a jerk, the image of Heather Taffet's head disintegrating playing over and over in his mind. His breath ragged, he sat up and clutched his knees leaning his forehead against them and tried to catch his breath.

His sudden movements waking her, she rolled over and looked at her boyfriend, wondering how many nights they would have to go through this. "Are you alright? Would you like me to get you a drink of water?"

His heart beating hard against his chest, Booth shook his head and continued to try to calm down. "It was just a dream." He had been fine since he came back from Afghanistan, sure the occasional bad dream, but that came with the territory and he was used to them, but this . . . this was different. Every night for the last two weeks he'd dreamed of Heather Taffet's head exploding into a fine mist of bone shards and blood and he didn't know why. He'd hated her, he was glad she was dead and yet that image wouldn't leave him alone. "Go back to sleep. I'm going to go watch a little TV."

Hannah watched Booth leave the room and worried about his mental health. He was a soldier who had seen a lot of death throughout his career and it wasn't unusual for him to have bad dreams, but not every night. Laying on the bed she stared at the ceiling and worried that he was suffering from PTSD. She wanted to help her lover, but she didn't know how. Should she insist he talk to someone? Did she have the right to push him to do that? Her relationship with Booth wasn't that serious was it? Did that matter? Shouldn't she make sure he got some help if he needed it?

Rolling out of bed, Hannah walked into the living room and stood just outside the bedroom door. "Maybe you should talk to your friend Dr. Sweets about the dreams."

The television on, Booth had selected ESPN and was trying to watch the highlights of hockey, but he wasn't sure if he really cared what was being said by the announcer. "Sweets . . . he has his own problems. He was standing next to Taffet when she lost her head and it . . . it affected him. I think it scared the shit out of him and he acted weird for a while. Caroline talked to him and he seems to be better, but talking about The Gravedigger to him could just throw him back into that funk he was in . . . I have to do this on my own."

A feeling of sadness washed over her and Hannah felt sorry for her boyfriend. "Couldn't you go to the VA? Maybe they have someone you can talk to there."

"I know you're trying to help Hannah, but the VA is not the place you think it is." Booth sighed and placed the remote on the couch next to him. "Too many veterans with too many problems and not enough doctors to help them. Some people in our government only care about our soldiers when they're in a war zone. As soon as our service people are back in the country, they seem to think their obligations to our soldiers ends . . . I'll have to deal with this on my own. It's just bad dreams Hannah don't worry about it. Just go back to bed. You have that early flight you have to take in the morning."

"Should I go?" Hannah was torn. She had a job to do, but she wasn't sure that Booth should be left alone. "I can call in sick."

Booth was starting to lose his patience, but he didn't want to take it out on Hannah. He knew she meant well, but she had no idea what was happening to him and she couldn't help him. "Please go back to bed Hannah. I'm fine."

Since Booth was pushing her away, she didn't feel like it was her right to push back. He wanted her to leave him alone and she would do that. "Alright, I'll call you in the afternoon."

"Fine." A feeling of guilt replaced his impatience and with that, he turned to face his girlfriend. "Hannah, I can handle this. The bad dreams, they aren't new. None of this is new. I can deal with it. Just go do your job and don't worry about me. I'm as fine as I can be."

Accepting his words, Hannah finally withdrew from the room leaving Booth alone.

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It felt like an itch. It always felt like an itch. He wanted to gamble. He loved gambling and he wanted to give in to the need to feel chips in his hand, dice in his hands, cards, pool cues, all of it. As the days passed, the itch kept getting worse and he wasn't sure if he could control it. The GA meetings weren't helping because he knew that he wasn't taking them seriously. He wanted to, but the itch was so unbearable and he wanted to give in.

He walked into the pool room and stared at the green felt covered tables taking up a large portion of the room. It had been years since he'd been there and it was obviously under new management. The walls had been painted a light cream color, some bright neon signs graced the walls advertising select beers and the floors had been changed from creaking oak boards to dark tile. Booth felt the place was aimed at a younger crowd and there did seem to be more of them than there used to be, but he didn't really care about that. He was there to play a few games of pool that's all. He was hoping that if he played some pool, it might stop the itch. He didn't plan to gamble, he just wanted to play some pool and quiet that urgent need to give in to that awful itch.

Pool was his game. It had always been his game and he thought he could use his skills to satisfy a need that wanted to control him. He had every intention of controlling it himself. He could do it. He had to do it.

Standing at a pool table, he set up for a game and started to play. Carefully, he took his time and hit each ball sinking shot after shot. A few of the shots required trick shots, but he found that he hadn't forgot how to finesse them. He had been good in the past and he was still good. The cue felt right in his hand, the clicking of the balls was a pleasant sound and the balls dropping into the pockets was satisfying.

He began to draw a small crowd, but Booth was so caught up in playing he didn't really notice. His eyes were on the balls and the cue and he didn't care about what was going on around him. After a few more games, a young man of about twenty five, stepped closer to the table and tried to get Booth's attention. "How about playing me? Twenty bucks to the winner."

Slowly straightening, Booth moved the cue so that the butt of the pool stick was now resting on the floor next to his foot. "No." Booth shook his head, rested the cue diagonally on the table and set up the balls on the table for another game.

The stranger didn't want to be turned down and tried to talk Booth into playing. "Afraid you'll lose old man?"

The balls now ready, Booth picked up his cue and leaned over the table. "No, I'm afraid I'll win." Breaking the balls, Booth moved from ball to ball until the table was clear. Surprised to see the man was still standing near the table, Booth placed the cue down on the table and confronted the man. "You got a problem?"

Slowly shaking his head, the stranger smiled. "Not me, but I think you do if you're so afraid to play me."

His eyes boring into the younger man, Booth suddenly turned, grabbed his suit jacket that he had left hanging on the back of a chair near him and left the pool hall. Once outside, he noticed his hands were shaking and he knew he had made a mistake. The itch was worse than ever and he was certain that he was about to lose control. Standing on the dark sidewalk, he tried to calm his breathing, to calm his hands and found he wasn't able to do it. Filled with dread, he hurried over to his SUV, started the truck and entered the street without checking for oncoming traffic. Luckily the street was deserted and his inattention didn't hurt him or anyone else.

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Standing in his bathroom, Booth threw up. The thought of how close he had come to gambling was making him sick and he couldn't get over just how stupid he had been going to the pool hall.

The sound of vomiting made Hannah wince and made her feel nauseous. Her boyfriend had come home late and he had hurried past her on the way to the bathroom. Once she heard the sounds of sickness, she became concerned and stood just outside the bathroom, trying not to become sick herself. "What's wrong, Seeley? Do you need to go to Urgent Care?"

Once his stomach was empty, Booth flushed the toilet, closed the lid and sat down on the toilet. Staring at the tub, he waited to see if his stomach was done betraying him. He heard Hannah asking questions, but he wasn't sure how to answer them. Finally satisfied that he had nothing left to be sick with, Booth stood up, washed his hands and face and left the room. "No, it's just a stomach thing." He passed her and moved to the kitchen where he retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge, opened it and drank most of the water. He knew that Hannah had followed him into the room, but he didn't really know what to say to her. "I've been feeling bad for a few days. It'll go away."

"Is this because of your dreams?" Hannah was certain of it. Her boyfriend was barely eating and tonight he hadn't come home until ten. No explanation, no call. She thought he was falling apart and she was worried that he couldn't see it. "Seeley you need help."

"You don't think I don't know that?" Booth tried not to yell out in his frustration, but it was so hard. "You don't think I don't know I'm in trouble? I want to gamble. I need to gamble. I need someone to help me, I know that . . . I need Bones." Swiftly moving past Hannah, he charged down the hallway, threw open the door, slammed it closed behind him and practically ran to the stairwell in his haste to get to his partner.

Stunned at the sudden departure of her boyfriend and the words he had spoken before he left, Hannah moved over to the couch in the living room and made a call. "Temperance, I think Seeley is on the way over to your apartment. He says he needs to gamble and he needs help. He said he needs you."

 _It's Brodsky. The man was a former Ranger and a friend of Booth. He's been upset ever since Brodsky shot Heather Taffet and tried to blow him up._

A little confused, Hannah tried to remember what little she knew about the Brodsky case. "What do you mean he tried to blow up Booth?"

 _Booth went after Brodsky alone and Brodsky blew up a trailer as they ran through some woods on land that Brodsky owns . . . well, Booth owns. Booth dislocated his shoulder and sprained his ankle. Didn't he tell you that when you got back this week?_

"No, I heard that someone named Brodsky killed the Gravedigger, but Seeley didn't mention that he was hurt . . . Seeley has been having nightmares every night since she was murdered . . . I think this is PTSD."

 _Perhaps . . . perhaps not. I'm home and I will await Booth's arrival. Don't worry Hannah. I know what to do._

Her friend's words were like a bucket of cold water thrown in her face. Her boyfriend had been hurt and he didn't bother to tell her about it. Brennan knew about it and she knew about his gambling problem too. Temperance knew how to fix Booth and was willing to do it. Hannah realized that her boyfriend didn't want her help. He didn't want anyone's help, just what help his partner could give.

The call ended, Hannah sat staring at the coffee table and wondered if it was time to move on. After all, she was a nomad and this was the longest relationship she had ever been in. Her boyfriend was damaged and she couldn't fix him. She was worried that no one could.

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Interesting?


	2. Chapter 2

(After 'The Bullet in the Brain')

A/N: this chapter is a little longer than my normal chapters, but I couldn't make it shorter. It would have ruined the scene.

I don't own Bones, not even a little bit.

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She waited for quite a while before she started to worry where Booth was. Hannah had been certain that he was on the way to her apartment when she called, but it was well past the time he should have arrived. Placing her shoes on her feet, she grabbed her purse and rushed to the front door with the intent of searching for her partner. As she flung the door open, she was surprised to witness Booth fall into the room. He had been sitting with his back against the door and when she opened it there was nothing to hold him up. "Why are you sitting in front of my door?"

Embarrassed, Booth's cheeks were burning with heat as he looked up at his partner. "I was afraid you were asleep and I didn't want to wake you up." When he had arrived at her apartment he had realized it was late and he sat down in front of her door to wait until the morning. He had been too afraid to leave. He knew that if he left he wouldn't go home. Booth was certain that he would have driven back to the pool hall and thrown away his sobriety.

Exasperated with her partner's behavior, Brennan stared down at Booth and shook her head. "Were you planning on sitting in front of my door all night? You know your hips and back can't take that kind of abuse anymore."

Sitting up, Booth staggered to his feet gritting his teeth and tried not to moan. He didn't want to admit that his back and shoulders were still giving him trouble since Brodsky had set off the explosion and he'd got caught in it. Once he was up and facing her, Booth wasn't sure what to say. "Are you going somewhere? I can go home."

"I was going to go look for you." Brennan decided to be honest with Booth. "Hannah called and said that you were coming over."

"Oh." Booth felt foolish and realized that he had made Brennan worry about him when he shouldn't have. "I didn't realize I'd said that out loud . . . Can I come in?"

Stepping back, Brennan allowed Booth to enter her apartment and closed the door behind him. After she placed her purse and keys on the table next to the door, she followed him over to the couch where he was standing. "Please sit down, I'm sure you're tired . . . Would you like a drink? Water, beer, wine?"

He thought about it and finally responded. "Beer . . . or water, it doesn't matter."

Worried that Booth looked so haggard, Brennan entered the kitchen retrieved a beer for both of them and returned to the living room. Settling on the couch next to her partner she handed him one of the bottles. "Hannah says you've been having bad dreams and that you want to gamble."

The bottle open, Booth sipped some of the cold beer and placed the bottle on the coffee table. "I was fine when I came back from Afghanistan . . . I was home and yeah I had bad nightmares once in a while, but it wasn't new. You know that, but . . . but ever since Heather Taffet lost her head, I've been having nightmares every night. It's the same one every time . . . Brodsky blows her head off and I see it over and over . . . I don't get it. I hated her. She tried to kill you and Hodgins, she tried to kill me and I hated her guts. I'm glad she's dead. I hated her so much, but . . . I keep dreaming about her head just disintegrating. I've seen worse. I've seen a hell of a lot worse, so why is her death bothering me so much? It's . . . I feel like I'm going a little crazy and I want to . . ." He was too embarrassed to say it. Hannah had told his partner that he wanted to gamble, but Brennan didn't know how bad it was. Maybe it would be the end of their partnership. Maybe it should be.

"You want to gamble." Brennan had seen Booth go through this before, but not with this intensity. He usually talked to her about his urge and if that didn't help then they did a little ritual to focus on the problem. Something she said usually helped him to overcome his urge to give up his sobriety, although she was never sure what it was she said that helped him. "Brodsky was your friend."

Disgusted with Brodsky's failure to walk the path of good, Booth closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. "I don't get it . . . He was a great man. He helped get rid of very dangerous men who were doing evil things to their own people . . . He was like me. We were doing good and now . . . and now he's murdering people. He's killing bad people, but he's also killing innocent people. He's . . . we're . . . I don't get it. Why would a man that was so loyal to his country, who did so much good turn into an assassin? He's killing people for money and I just can't wrap my head around that. Why is he doing this? I don't know what would make a man change like that."

She didn't have answers to Booth's questions and she wasn't so sure he was looking for answers from her anyway. She knew her partner liked to think out loud. It helped him to put his thoughts in order. She had seen him do it many times and yet something was different this time. He was intense, he was consumed with questions that only Brodsky could answer and he seemed to be taking the whole situation personally. Brennan knew she wasn't very adept when it came to understanding motives and she regretted it during times like this. "Booth he was your friend, but that doesn't mean that you are responsible for him. Brodsky has decided to kill for money and that is his burden not yours. Your burden is to catch him because that is who you are. You are the man who will capture Brodsky and make him pay for what he has done."

Her words were reasonable and somehow they resonated with him. "Yeah, I'm going to get that guy. He's crossed lines that can't be crossed not by good men and I'm going to stop him." Booth sat next to Brennan in silence and pushed Brodsky in to a box on the back shelf of his mind. He'd open that box when it came time to search for him, but for now, Booth thought he had control over some of his feelings now. "I'm not like him. I know the difference between good and evil. I could never kill someone for money. It's an evil thing he's doing. I'm not like that."

"Of course you aren't." Brennan could talk to him about the fact that he and Brodsky were both snipers and were used to killing men from a far, but she didn't see the point in mentioning it. "Perhaps you are upset because you feel betrayed by your friend. He has turned his back on the good he has done for the sake of compensatory gain. It is always hard to understand when someone who is good suddenly turns bad."

Surprised at the profound thoughts behind her words, Booth smiled. "You don't believe in good and evil. You know you don't."

"Oh I believe that good and evil exists, but not for religious reasons like you do and I don't usually use those exact words." Brennan placed her hand on Booth's arm. "I've seen the horrible things that men can do and I'm well aware that those men don't have any compassion for the people they have harmed. I'm usually uncomfortable using the word evil, but it is a good descriptive word . . . Adam Morton contends that 'evildoers are crucially uninhibited by barriers against considering harming or humiliating others that ought to be there' . . . Brodsky's actions have confused you and that confusion has probably triggered your nightmares . . . Of course that is a guess and you know I hate to guess about anything, but this isn't really a field I'm strong in. I don't really understand personal motives as well as you do, but I do recognize when someone has decided that they would rather over turn normal social conventions and do what they want with no thought to the law or the repercussions of what they are doing."

Her words running through his mind, Booth picked up the bottle from the coffee table and drank more of the beer. Satisfied for the moment, he placed the bottle back on the table. "You know I'm a recovering gambling addict . . . the last few weeks, I've really wanted to gamble. I keep going to my meetings, but they aren't helping and I don't know why. I love to gamble, you know that, but I don't want to. I know what will happen if I start doing that again, but the itch is just so damn bad . . . I went to a pool hall this evening . . ."

"Booth." Brennan was afraid that Booth had played for money, but she didn't really want to censure him. Berating him wouldn't help the situation. "You should have called me."

His cheeks a scarlet color, Booth looked down at his hands as they rested on his thighs. "I didn't gamble. I just played pool. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to gamble and when some guy offered to play a game with me for twenty bucks I almost did it, but I knew I couldn't . . . I left and went home, but I really wanted to go back and take that guy on." His voice was ragged from emotion and he knew sounded desperate. "I need help Bones. I need you to help me."

Filled with compassion for her friend, Brennan knew that Booth must be desperate if he was willing to admit he needed help. He didn't ask for help very often, but when he did, Brennan knew the situation was serious. "I'm glad you came Booth. We've been through this before and we know what to do to fix this."

"Yeah, I knew you'd know how to fix me." Booth was grateful to have such a friend like Brennan. "Bones . . . I'm sorry that our friendship has been kind of off kilter since we both got back. I never meant to mess that up."

"It isn't messed up, Booth." Brennan was being a little dishonest, but she didn't care. When they had first returned their relationship had been very awkward. They both valued their friendship, but she knew that Booth was trying to keep his distance from her. As first she didn't know why, but when Hannah had showed up, she assumed it was because Booth was in love with the reporter and didn't want there to be any misunderstandings between the partners. She had turned down his overture in front of the Hoover the previous year and he had found someone else that would give him what he wanted. She knew she couldn't do it and she thought she was fine with that, until she realized that she wasn't.

Brennan had a mental breakdown not too long ago and Booth had saved her life during that disturbing time in her life. In a short period of time, he had shown her that he cared for her enough to follow her in the pouring rain to protect her, but it wasn't because he loved her like she had hoped. He did love her, but it was as a friend and she had accepted that. She had always valued his friendship above all other things and as long as he was her friend, she could accept that he was in love with someone else. She would not abandon him when he needed help, just like he hadn't abandoned her and protected her when she needed it. It was what they did. "Get out your chip Booth. I know you must have it on you."

The gambling bug was something that Booth would forever be plagued with and over the years the partners had come up with a way to help him when he was having trouble staying sober. Some of it may appear silly to an outsider, but it worked and they knew it. The chip in his hand, Brennan placed her hand over the chip, cupping his hand. "Where did you get this chip?" She knew the answer, but it was part of the ritual.

The touch of her hand on his hand made him feel connected in a way he hadn't felt for a long time. "I won it in the last poker game I ever played. I won $4,600 dollars that night and it felt so damn good."

"What did you do with the money?" Brennan pressed her hand over the chip. "Didn't you do something with the money?"

"It was a big pot, so I kept this chip as a good luck piece." Booth knew that he wasn't answering the question, but he hated the answer he had to give. "I blew all the money the next night on a bet plus an extra thousand . . . I was supposed to put some of that money in my son's college fund and I was supposed to buy groceries, pay my gym dues, buy my son a birthday present, but I blew it . . . I blew all of it. I was broke for two weeks. I only ate two meals a day and that was peanut butter sandwiches and cereal because that's all I had in the house . . . so stupid. Rebecca was so pissed at me about it and she wouldn't let me see Parker for three months. She told me that she didn't trust me."

She knew that Booth was embarrassed, but he needed to explain what the chip meant. "Then what happened?"

Booth smiled and looked up. Staring into her bright blue eyes, Booth moved his fingers so that they were now surrounding her hand. "I met you . . . You were brilliant and I wanted to work with you and I knew . . . I knew that if I ever got you to team up with me, I couldn't gamble anymore. I had to be the best I could be and that means no gambling."

So proud that she was the reason that Booth gave up gambling, Brennan always thought of it as giving the world something back. Booth was a fantastic investigator and FBI Agent and when he wasn't gambling he did great work. If she had a small hand in helping him be that man then she was proud of that fact. She had never really influenced anyone's behavior that she knew of before she met Booth and to actually inspire someone to improve his life was a feeling she couldn't explain, but she didn't need to. "I only work with the best."

"Yeah and I'm the best, Bones." Booth was proud of his solve rate at the FBI and he was proud of his partnership. "I'll always be the best for you." The itch was starting to fade. It would never completely disappear, but the intensity was fading and that was what he needed. "This chip is a reminder of just how easy it is to screw everything up. I keep it with me as a talisman."

"Yes, a lucky charm." Brennan didn't really believe in luck or charms, but Booth did. She was the one who had originally told him that the chip was a talisman. "That chip reminds you of the things you can lose if you give up your sobriety and it's a reminder of the things that you can have if you forgo gambling. It's a good talisman, Booth."

Feeling relaxed, Booth smiled at the way Brennan looked in her FBI t-shirt and her jogging pants. "I need to get you a new t-shirt. It's supposed to be black not gray."

Releasing his hand, Brennan looked down at her faded shirt. "Yes, you should. Perhaps you should buy two so that I can rotate them and make them last longer."

Amused, Booth laughed, the first time he'd laughed since Brodsky had taken that fatal shot outside the courthouse. "I'll buy you three . . . thanks Bones. You really helped me . . . thank you."

"You're welcome." Standing, Brennan placed the still full bottle of beer on the coffee table and tugged on Booths' hand. "Sleep in the guest bedroom tonight and we'll eat breakfast in the morning. I have a dozen eggs in the fridge. Max bought them and left them here. He likes to come over and watch television with me sometimes and when he does he makes an egg sandwich for a snack."

"I don't want to get in the way, Bones. I can go home." Staying in the guest bedroom was part of their ritual, but Booth didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

"Nonsense, you have to stay Booth. You know you do." Brennan wanted to make sure that their ritual worked and she didn't want Booth to be tempted to go back to the pool hall. He always slept in the guest bedroom after their little chip ritual was complete and she didn't want him to deviate from something that they both knew worked. After all, he needed to be near someone that cared about his sobriety and Brennan cared. "You still have a suitcase filled with your clothes in the closet, Booth. You can stay and we'll eat breakfast in the morning. The ritual will be complete then."

Grateful for all that she had done for him, Booth nodded his head. "Okay, you're right."

"Of course I am." Brennan liked it when Booth acknowledged that. After all, she was usually right most of the time. Not always, but most of the time.

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Let me know what you think of my story. Thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

(After 'They Bullet in the Brain')

Thank you for reviewing my story. I appreciate it.

I really don't own Bones.

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His eyes popped open and he knew he was in trouble. Struggling to throw back the thick comforter covering him, Booth left his bed, grabbed his pants from the chair near the closet and looked for his phone. Not finding it there, he checked his jacket and found it in the right pocket. Making a call, Booth wondered how he was going to explain where he was to his girlfriend. His phone call was shunted to voice mail and after checking the clock over the dresser, he realized that Hannah was probably still asleep.

Hurriedly, Booth dressed, slipped on his shoes and quickly made the bed he had been sleeping in. Once that was done, he strode out into the living room, found a piece of paper and a pen next to Brennan's lap top and wrote a quick note to his partner.

 _Bones, I had to go home. Don't worry, I really am going home and not to the pool hall. Thank you for your help last night. I couldn't have done it without you. I'll call you in the morning. Booth_

After he left the note on the coffee table, he left the apartment as quietly as he could. He knew he was in trouble with his girlfriend, but he had needed help last night and he knew that if Brennan hadn't helped him, he would probably be in the pool hall right now, losing all of his money and his dignity. He just hoped Hannah understood the situation and forgave him.

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When he arrived home, Booth entered his apartment as quietly as possible. The time was 5:48 and he didn't want to wake Hannah if she was still asleep. After he opened his gun safe, he deposited his gun and badge in the free space and closed it. Since he wanted to be as quiet as possible, he removed his shoes and carried them with him to his bedroom.

The bedroom door was open and the room was dark which Booth found a little surprising since Hannah liked to sleep with the door closed. After he stepped inside he glanced at the bed and noticed that it was empty. The bedding and sheets were all neatly in place and it looked like the bed hadn't been slept in since the last time he'd made the bed. Flipping on the overhead light, Booth spied an envelope propped up on the dresser with his name printed across it. Taking it, he moved over to the bed and sat down. Not sure if he really wanted to open it, Booth braced himself and hoped for the best.

 _Seeley, I know this is sudden, but I've accepted a permanent assignment in Egypt and I am leaving in the morning. I didn't want to miss my flight, so I left early._

 _I know this is terrible and 'Dear John' letters are so cliché, but you aren't here and I can't talk to you in person. I tried to call you, but I was routed to voicemail so here we are with this letter._

 _I have enjoyed living with you Seeley, I really have. I think we had a good time and we were good for each other. You needed companionship and so did I. We were so good together, but it is time I moved on._

 _Your life is complicated and you have issues that I think you need to deal with. I tried to get you to get help, but you told me that you can handle it. I don't think you can, Seeley. You were so upset tonight, so upset it made you sick. That is not normal. I know you went to see Temperance because you felt she could help you and I hope she did, but Seeley you need professional help. I think you have PTSD. I'm not a psychologist, but I've seen this before and I am begging you to get help. Please don't let your pride get in your way._

 _I think it is best that we part ways as you need to concentrate on your problems and not on me or our relationship. I'm just in the way._

 _I love you Seeley and I hope the best for you. Maybe someday soon I'll call you and find out how you are doing or you can call me and we can talk. Even though we are breaking up as a couple, I hope we can remain friends._

 _Hannah_

Slowly, Booth folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. Sitting on the bed, he stared at the mirror and saw a man who looked tired and beat down. He'd been going through so much since his brain surgery and he wasn't sure if his life would ever return to the way it was before he had his head opened up and a piece of his brain removed.

He knew he had changed because Brennan and Cam had told him he had, but he had thought the changes were superficial. Now he wasn't so sure. He had been making unwise decisions since he woke up in the hospital and it worried him that he didn't think things through like he should. He didn't know if he'd always been like that, but it needed to stop.

It had started when he had realized that he was in love with his partner, but he had been too afraid to tell her. He didn't know if it was a new love or he'd been in love with her before the surgery. Everyone, meaning Sweets and Cam seemed to think it was temporary and he had hidden his feelings until that moment in front of the Hoover. His recklessness with his partner had upset their partnership and their friendship in ways he didn't count on. Afterward, they had both made decisions that had them leaving the country and Booth realized that they had run away from each other because of his unthinking push to make his partner make a decision about them as a couple. His decision to join the Army wasn't thought through either and he knew it as soon as he arrived in Afghanistan. He had been told he'd be training, but he'd actually been in the field killing insurgents, adding to his cosmic balance sheet. He was too old to be on the front lines in a war zone. He had a son and responsibilities and he had ignored them.

While he was there he became so lonely that he had become depressed. No contact from Brennan, a few letters from his son and his grandfather and he knew that he had made a huge mistake that he couldn't fix. Hannah had been another reckless decision. He let himself fall in love with her and he didn't know why. She wasn't his type at all. She was a free spirit and didn't believe in serious relationships. She had told him that and he'd ignored it. He knew at the time that he shouldn't become involved with her, but he had ignored common sense and now he was paying the price.

The gambling urge might just be a symptom of more serious problems and he worried about that too. Did he have PTSD? He'd had it in the past and it was possible he had it now, but to find out he'd have to deal with the VA hospitals and he worried that it might affect his career at the FBI. He needed help, but he couldn't seek it out without risking his partnership with Brennan. If the FBI thought he was too volatile, if they thought he was a risk in the field, they'd exile him behind his desk. He didn't want to risk that unless he had to.

Brennan had helped him the previous evening and the urge to gamble was just a quiet buzz in the back of his mind. He knew that with that urge, that itch dampened he had time to fix himself. He just needed to figure out how to do it without jeopardizing Brennan or anyone else in his life.

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It had been a few days since they had seen each other, but they had finally got together at the Royal Diner for lunch. They had been in contact with phone calls and emails, but they both needed more than that. They always had.

"Was the ritual of help, Booth?" That was the question Brennan had been anxious to ask her partner for the last three days, but she had wanted to do it when she was in his presence. She wanted to study his face when he answered the question. Because the conversation was so serious she had lowered her voice to keep the nearby patrons from hearing her.

"Yeah, I think so." Booth hadn't felt the overwhelming urge to gamble since he had talked to Brennan in her apartment and he found that a little disturbing. Hannah had dumped him and even though he was angry about it, he didn't feel like he needed to gamble because of it. Careful to speak quietly, Booth leaned forward so that Brennan was the only one that could hear him. "I haven't been back to the pool hall and I even turned down a chance to play in an office pool yesterday on the next football game."

Pleased that Booth had his gambling addiction under control, Brennan smiled in relief. "That's good. I'm glad for you."

Booth opened two sugar packets and dumped them in his coffee. "Hannah thinks I have PTSD."

She abhorred soft sciences like psychology and Brennan detested it when someone who hadn't at least studied in the field made an amateur diagnoses. "It's possible, but I'm more inclined to think Brodsky's betrayal of you and the justice system you love is what triggered your urge to gamble. You've had PTSD in the past and I'm sure you'd recognize the symptoms if that is true."

Feeling that he was making a mistake, Booth pulled the letter from Hannah out of his jacket pocket and silently handed it to his partner.

Puzzled, Brennan opened the letter and read it. A feeling of anger swept through her as she read the words Hannah had written. Once she was done, she carefully folded the letter, placed it back in the envelope and handed it back to Booth. "I see . . . did she leave this for you the night you stayed at my apartment?"

Glumly, Booth nodded his head. "I blew it again. Do you know I've been dumped four times in the last ten years? It's starting to give me a complex." He had meant it as a joke, but it fell flat and the thought of his failures made him angry. How was he supposed to find someone to love him and commit to him, when his life was such a damn mess? His gambling, his past history all made him a crappy candidate for anyone that wanted a normal life. Still he had always thought that there was someone out there that might overlook his weaknesses and see that he had a lot to offer if they would just look, but no one was interested and it made him both angry and miserable.

"Are you angry?" Brennan could see the sadness on her partner's face, but she couldn't really tell if he was angry or not.

"No . . . yeah a little." Booth took the envelope and placed it back in his jacket pocket. "Dumping me with a letter is a shit move. The least she could have done was call me. I mean I didn't even rate a phone call for God's sake."

Brennan agreed that Hannah had handled the situation poorly. "Are you feeling the itch?"

After he sipped his coffee, Booth placed the cup down and frowned because he wanted to be truthful and he was confused with his situation. "No and you'd think I would be. I mean I've been dumped with a letter for God's sake and that pisses me off, but no, so far it's just the normal buzz in the back of my head. I can handle that . . . It's a big change in my life and yet no itch. I don't get it or me. I wanted to gamble when Brodsky almost killed me, but I don't want to gamble just because my heart was crushed once again. Maybe I'm getting used to being rejected, who knows." None of it made sense to him. "I guess I'm glad though. The last thing I need is to lose everything I own in a poker game or a bet on a horse. I guess I should be thanking my lucky stars that I'm not pissed enough at Hannah to lose my shit although I should be."

"If you feel the need to gamble, you must contact me." The longer they sat talking the angrier her partner was getting and Brennan wasn't sure how to calm him down. She had poor social skills and Booth needed someone more adept with emotions. "Perhaps you should talk to Sweets or Cam instead of me. I don't think I'm helping you. You are getting angry just sitting here talking to me."

"What?" Booth leaned forward and shook his head. "No, I'm not angry . . . well I'm a little angry, but it doesn't have anything to do with you, okay? You're fine, don't knock yourself down like that. It's not right . . . Look, I'm just messed up right now. I just got dumped again and I kind of know why and I kind of don't know why. I'm a gambler, but I don't gamble and Hannah knew that, but it didn't matter to her. She saw this messed up guy with serious problems and I think it scared her. She thinks I have more than a gambling problem she thinks I have PTSD and she ran away as fast as she could. She didn't give me a chance . . . I knew that she didn't want the same things I wanted, but I thought maybe she'd change her mind. One look at how crazy I was acting the other day and she left. She didn't want to handle the situation or me. So yeah, I'm angry, but I'll get over it. I always do."

Brennan sat sipping her iced tea and came to a decision. She needed to make Booth understand that things between them had changed, but not for the worse. "You're not alone, Booth. I'm your partner and your friend. I think your trouble lately has nothing to do with PTSD and everything to do with your addiction. That's bad enough. Hannah isn't a doctor nor is she trained in any of the medical fields. She is merely using her uneducated guesses as an excuse to sever ties with you. I understand your problem and I'm here to help you when you need it. I'm not going anywhere Booth. I've done all the running I'm going to do. I went to Maluku because I didn't want to face certain realities. I thought I could turn my back on them and they would no longer matter, but they do matter. They matter to me and I'm not going to run from them ever again."

That she didn't plan to run from him again made Booth feel instantly better. At least he had one person he could count on in his life to be on his side. His relationship with Brennan had been awkward since he had allowed Hannah to move in with him, but he had just been trying keep his partnership and friendship with Brennan separate from his relationship with Hannah and he hadn't handled either relationship very well. It was difficult to keep Brennan at arm's length, but he had known when he came back that he still loved her and he couldn't press his case with her. She didn't want him like that and she never would. He hated the idea that they were perfect for each other and she couldn't see that. "Thanks, I'm not going anywhere either. We both just need to stay and handle whatever comes."

"Yes, we should." Brennan studied Booth and realized that he was calmer than he had been just a little bit earlier in their conversation. Once again, she had said something that seemed to calm and assure Booth and yet she didn't know what it was she had said. It was very annoying, but maybe someday she would have an epiphany. After all she was a genius.

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Let me know what you think of my story. Thank you.


	4. Chapter 4

(After The Blackout in the Blizzard)

Thank you for reviewing my story. It's how I can tell you're still interested in reading my Bones stories.

I don't own Bones.

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The exposed elevator was cold and Brennan was grateful for her coat and hat. It had been a long morning and she still couldn't believe she'd become trapped in the elevator with Booth with no way out until the electricity returned. Logic told her that they should have left the stadium seats in the hallway with a note, but her partner had been afraid someone would steal them and wanted to take them up to his apartment. She should have insisted, but his pleading had made her push aside her concerns and she knew that was one of the things about her friendship that she found perplexing.

Logic didn't seem to triumph in their relationship very often. Logically their friendship didn't make sense at all. She was a scientist and a pragmatist, logical all the way and her partner was ruled by his heart and not nearly pragmatic enough. And yet, they were the best of friends. They seemed to balance each other's weaknesses out and their strengths seem to be amplified when they were together working as a team.

Realistically, they shouldn't be able to stand each other, but that was so far from the truth that it made Brennan wonder sometimes. She was socially inept. Often times Booth assured her that she was just awkward. Surprisingly, from a man who could be quite impatient, he accepted that about her and as their relationship grew and she learned to understand some social situations, her ineptness seemed to diminish, at least a little bit.

Booth was an expert when it came to human motivation. He could read people like they were a book. Brennan admired that gift and wished she could do that, but being the pragmatist that she was she knew that was one of her weaknesses and that it was never likely to improve or at least not very much.

Contemplating what it was that made them such good friends, Brennan was left with more questions than answers, but she persisted. She studied her partner and tried to understand what made him Booth and why his weaknesses didn't seem to bother her very much when those same weaknesses in others did.

They had their ups and down like many friends do. Things that should have destroyed their friendship, but didn't left Brennan even more confused. Why was it that she could turn him down outside the Hoover and yet he still wanted to be her friend, her partner? Why did she still want to work with him when he came back from Afghanistan with a girlfriend and seemed to have less time for her? Perhaps it was the fact that they truly loved each other. Not sexually, but never the less what they had between them was real love.

Sometimes she still believed that love wasn't real and other times it seemed that love was very real and was the answer to her questions. Perhaps there was more to love than science could explain. She had been suspicious of that particular emotion for a long time. Some people seemed to fall in and out of love very easily. Angela came to mind. Since Brennan had known her, she had seen Angela fall in love with Hodgins, fall out of love with him, fall in love with Roxie and then fall back into love with Hodgins. It seemed an erratic way to live.

Brennan had asked Angela about it once, but the artist's reasoning made no sense. She had told Brennan that she had never fallen out of love with Hodgins, that she had just fallen out of like. With Roxie, Angela had loved her since she was a young woman and when they broke up once more after an intense affair she still claimed to love her. How could Angela love both Hodgins and Roxie? It was a puzzle that Brennan didn't feel was solvable, at least not by her. It was confusing and messy like her relationship with Booth.

Ever since he had entered her life, Booth had upset her proverbial apple wagon. He was temperamental letting his emotions get the better of him. He had a lot of ideas about what love was, but they all seemed to be idyllic not pragmatic. Of course he said that was the point, love was not supposed to have anything to do with pragmatism and yet how was she supposed to understand what love was if she didn't understand the rules of love and what made love real?

She could accept that she might actually love Booth, but was it enough for her? Was his love strong enough to last the 40 or 50 years that he claimed could happen? Like Angela, she knew that Booth seemed to be able to fall in and out of love too. Perhaps that was normal, but it was so risky. She had a lot to think about and she knew that Booth did too. Were they both strong enough to love each other in a sexual manner and keep their friendship intact if that sexual relationship failed? She wasn't sure and it frightened her.

It was a gamble and wasn't gambling the heart of Booth's problem?

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"Love is a gamble." They were sitting in the Royal Diner enjoying a cup of coffee and for some reason that was completely inexplicable to Brennan she had blurted that statement out. No forethought, just 'Love is a gamble'.

"Um, yeah, it is." Booth wasn't sure what was going on inside Brennan's head, but then again, he rarely did. "But so is life. So is anything you do really. You either succeed or you fail. It's up to you to decide how much you're willing to gamble to get what you want."

Her bottom lip caught between her teeth, Brennan stared at Booth and debated about whether or not to continue. His silence told her he was giving her time to think and she appreciated that courtesy. "Gambling has caused you nothing but trouble and so has love. You . . . you tried to have a relationship with Rebecca and it failed. Also with Tessa, with Catherine and with Hannah and those are just the ones I know about."

For just a moment, Booth was angry. It seemed like his partner was calling him a loser, but he quickly calmed down. Brennan was his friend and he had never known her to be cruel on purpose. "I've had a lot of relationships in my life and yeah they didn't end like I thought they would, but at least I tried. Sure things didn't work out with Rebecca, but it wasn't a complete failure." Booth smiled and thought about his son. "I got Parker out of that relationship, so how can that be a failure?"

Brennan had seen the quick flash of anger on her partner's face moments before and then it seemed to melt instantly away. She knew that she had said something wrong, but she wasn't sure what it was. It always seemed like that happened at moments when she was trying to understand an emotional situation and she didn't know why.

"Tessa was nice, but she didn't want a serious relationship with me." Booth had always thought it was strange that they had planned a vacation together and then for some reason he still didn't understand, she dumped him. "She's still single you know. Her career has really taken off and Caroline told me that it looks like Tessa might become a partner in her law firm pretty soon. I guess she doesn't have time for a family yet."

Her coffee cup now empty, Brennan signaled for a waitress to refill her cup. "Angela says Tessa was insecure in her relationship with you."

He thought about it for a second, but he really couldn't see it. Tessa had been a very confident young woman with grand plans. "I don't think so, but who knows?" He didn't really care about Tessa, so he decided to move the conversation along. "I dated Catherine a couple of time, but we didn't click. I didn't love her, but I did like her. She was nice."

After the waitress refilled both of their coffee cups, Brennan sipped some of it and placed the cup down on the table. Being truthful with herself, Brennan knew that she had been jealous of Catherine. The scientist had been pretty and very intelligent and it had surprised her when Booth broke off things with Catherine. She had also been glad, but she didn't want to think about that at that moment. "You loved Hannah."

They were now speaking about his most recent try at love and it made Booth uncomfortable. "Yeah." He wasn't sure what he wanted to say about the reporter. That affair still confused him. "I did love her and she said she loved me, but we were too different. She wanted the freedom to come and go as she pleased and that was fine, I knew she had a job to do, but I guess I didn't want to admit to myself that there was no way she was ever going to agree to have more with me. She told me that she was a nomad and she didn't believe in marriage when we started out our relationship, but I thought she'd changed her mind when she moved back to the states. I thought she might eventually want to get married, but I got that all wrong . . . really wrong." It hurt that he had allowed himself to enter into a relationship with someone that didn't think he was worth it. "I guess I took a gamble and I lost . . . it hurt, but rejection always hurts."

The Hoover popped into her mind and she knew that rejection did hurt. He had asked her to take a chance on them the year before, but because she was afraid she couldn't give him what he needed, she had rejected him. She hadn't known what else she could do at the time. After a lot of self-reflection, she now knew that she was doing more than that. That plea from Booth had taken her by surprise and she knew that she needed to protect not just her partner but herself too. Love seemed too fleeting and when someone loved you and then abandoned you, the pain was almost unbearable. Her parents had taught her that. She hadn't wanted to hurt Booth because she knew she wasn't very demonstrative, but she also didn't want to be hurt when he eventually left her because of that lack of empathy. The irony of the situation was not lost on her. Her rejection had hurt both of them and left them both confused and conflicted. "Yes it does."

They were both sad now and Booth he knew that it was his fault. He never could get his partner to understand that love was more than chemicals and he regretted that he couldn't get through to her. "Look, I'm a gambler and I know that taking a gamble on something can cause you to lose everything, but sometimes you win too. Sometimes you win big and that's what make people like me take the risk. It's why I have to fight with myself about gambling every day. Sure I can lose everything gambling, I know that, but I can also win that dream pot. I guess that's why I'm willing to risk my future for love. I know that if I find that certain someone, someone that loves me not just for my strengths, but also in spite of my weaknesses, I'll win the biggest gamble of my life. It's worth that to me Bones . . . I can't gamble with money anymore I know that . . . I can't play pool or poker or make bets on games because they could ruin me, but gambling on love? That's different . . . I'm gambling with my heart, with my life, but to find someone that loves me, that wants to be with me? . . . It's worth the pain if I find that special someone . . . it's worth it, it has to be."

His words were heart felt and Brennan felt them resonate within her. She wanted to be brave enough to take the risk that Booth wanted to take and she felt that someday she would, but at that moment, she cherished the friendship that she had with him. Brennan had never had someone care for her like Booth cared for her and that made her think that she could someday give him what he wanted. It was a gamble and it was a matter of trust, but she trusted him more than anyone else in the world. She loved him and someday, when they were both ready, Brennan felt that they would make that final connection. Reaching out, she placed her hand over his hand. "I think you're special, Booth and I think you will get what you want someday . . . someday soon perhaps. We did write dates on paper and then burned them for the universe to . . . I'm not certain what the universe is supposed to do about the dates, but none the less we did write down dates."

Booth glanced at her hand covering his hand and he felt his heart begin to race. When they had burned those pieces of paper in his apartment it had been a whimsical moment, something they rarely showed and yet they did it and it seemed like she had taken those offerings to the universe seriously. "Yeah, we did and the universe knows it too. It won't forget and neither will I. Neither will you."

"No, we won't." Brennan removed her hand and picked up her cup of coffee. "Perhaps when I get itchy and I need to gamble Booth . . . will you be there if that happens?"

He smiled at her and realized that she was telling him what he had hoped to hear outside the Hoover. She was being as plain as she could be about the situation and he heard her loud and clear. "Of course I will. Just like you're there for me when I get the itch, but maybe when you get itchy I won't stop you from taking that particular gamble . . . I mean . . . well . . . it wouldn't really be a gamble Bones. I promise it won't be. It will be our moment . . . our date with Fate."

"I think so too." Brennan smiled at Booth and felt a sense of relief. They knew that someday they would be more than partners, but there was no rush. They were secure in their friendship and she knew that their moment would come.

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This is the last chapter of this story. Let me know what you think of it. Thank you.


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